


turn this nothingness back into something

by orphan_account



Category: GP2 Series RPF
Genre: Bondage, Kink, M/M, Spanking, d/s dynamics, it's just a nice kinky time you know, no plot no feelings just lovely kinky fun, ok maybe also some feelings, uhm it really is very kinky, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 05:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8609749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Richie decides to try and revisit those ol' good times with Mitch. PWP.Maybe Richie’s got a bit pathetic in the meantime, off in WEC exile while everyone else is having slutty single-seater fun. He knows Mitch has a reputation as the Paddock shag king and Richie was kind of proud for a bit, then kind of jealous and now he thinks he must be quite desperate because he wants Mitch’s attention back on him so badly he'll do fucking anything at this point. And wants to.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SebAuRouge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SebAuRouge/gifts), [montecarlos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/montecarlos/gifts).



> Title from Something For Nothing by Rationale. 
> 
> Some nice Mitchie fun. I forget how this even came into being except that Seb-Au-Rouge and Valentineskid are entirely responsible - s/o porn squad. I wrote a lot of this on my phone so please attempt to forgive me grammatical errors that I have not yet noticed.

Richie  _ really  _ isn't sure when this started. Definitely longer ago than he wants to admit. Maybe from the first fucking minute he started seducing Mitch into his bed, into giving up his virginity to Richie years ago, letting Richie see how fucking good it could feel to be the subject of someone's attention. 

And maybe Richie’s got a bit pathetic in the meantime, off in WEC exile while everyone else is having slutty single-seater fun. He knows Mitch has a reputation as the Paddock shag king and Richie was kind of proud for a bit, then kind of jealous and now he thinks he must be quite  _ desperate  _ because he wants Mitch’s attention back on him so badly he'll do fucking anything at this point. And wants to. 

He'd always been lowkey proud of kind of corrupting Mitch, every other lover after getting asked to pull his hair while he's sucking dick because Richie had and he was the first. He'd got Mitch into being fucked hard, from behind, into getting handcuffed and spanked before he got to ride Richie’s dick. 

Which all seemed like fucking Fisher Price BDSM in comparison to some of the shit he's heard Alex Lynn talk about. And fucking… fucking Markelov, of all people, claims that Mitch fucking tied him up, stuck a plug in him and then choked him with his cock until he came. Richie isn't getting this kind of dicking, it's fucking outrageous. 

And ok yes he may be kind of lonely. Suck it up, assholes, you can keep your cold fucking European winters and your pervy fucking. 

Mitch is home for Christmas right now, which is great because it means there are no stupid little French skanks or posh English cheekbones to distract him and Richie is  _ really  _ hoping they can at least have a common-or-garden, friendly shag on the bonnet of the Aston Martin. He's even letting him drive it, in case that might help Richie’s “please get in my pants” case. 

Although right now that's mostly apparently giving Mitch another way to lord it over him because Richie has been asking him to pull over so he can have a piss for the last forty five minutes and it's not making anything better to have to think about his dick like this and also Mitch is being a fucking asshole. 

“Come on dude, you'd fucking stop if I said I wanted to Instagram the sea, I bet.” Richie shifts miserably, determined not to piss himself in his own fucking car but also totally unable to enjoy the drive anymore, let alone work on anything seductive to say. 

“Stop being a bratty little bitch, Stanaway.” Mitch laughs at him, leans over to give him a friendly slap and Richie tries really hard to pretend he's still even thinking about needing a piss, not the idea of Mitch roughing him up with his cock in his mouth. 

He goes quiet. Mitch probably hasn't noticed, he reasons. He's looking at the road, not at the way Richie’s suddenly turned a bit inward, a little satisfied to have got Mitch’s attention and annoyed at himself for feeling that way. 

Except Mitch is really annoyingly observant - Richie bets he does make a fucking good dom, not just because he's got that body from the fucking gods and a pretty great cock. He notices the way people are around him, it's what makes him so fucking successful at getting into people's beds. 

Mitch hasn't said anything though, so he thinks he's got away with it. Ugh, it's not his fault Mitch is going round being a sex god and Richie’s feeling desperate enough he nearly considered trying to annoy Timo into fucking him the other weekend. He just wants some fucking filth back in his life and when he'd been showing Mitch everything it'd been, like, the filthiest sex of his life. 

Definitely the filthiest memories - Mitch pliant beneath him, getting his cock teased for the first time when Richie pulled back as he was about to come, made him whine. Mitch looking fucking revelatory when Richie managed to hit all the good spots, fucking him into the mattress. Mitch whining and coming across his own chest, without touching himself, riding Richie’s dick like he'd told him to. 

Richie had cuddled him after, told him how good he was at sex. In retrospect, Mitch might not have been the one needing confidence. 

He definitely doesn't now, at least - Richie is making a weird whining noise because when Mitch reached over to the gear stick he didn’t stop there, moving his hand to cup Richie’s crotch, squeeze  _ so  _ gently, just once. “You’re an asshole.”

Mitch gives him another squeeze, then goes back to concentrating on driving, both hands on the wheel. “Really? I don’t think so.”

“Fuck off - you’re a fucking dick.” Richie shuffles round, curls into himself towards the window of  _ his goddamned car.  _ Maybe he doesn’t want Mitch’s attention after all, if he’s going to be this much of a fucking bitch about it - Richie’s cheeks are flushing hot red and he feels weird and prickly and tingly.

He just wants to get Mitch into bed and fuck him like he used to, remind him who taught him how to do this. Maybe see if he’s learnt any new tricks, tease him a bit for being a slut. Maybe let him try them on Richie, if they’re interesting. Maybe Mitch could fuck  _ him.  _ Just for, like, completeness’ sake. 

He doesn't want to be fucking  _ teased  _ in his own car though. Christ, he's so horny he'd fucking still go for it if Mitch pulled over now. 

“See, you can hold it. You just need a distraction.” 

Richie refuses to whimper. “Just get us home, you bastard.”

\------

Mitch is waiting for him in the hallway outside the bathroom, like he owns the place. Which he fucking doesn’t, this is Richie’s house dammit. Even if he feels increasingly off-kilter and almost childish in the face of Mitch’s apparently indefatigable confidence. 

“If you wanted to fuck you could have just texted” oh ok, maybe not as endlessly confident as he seems - Mitch sounds a little hurt. Or maybe not hurt - but there’s a telling-off somewhere in there that goes way beyond whatever game he’s playing right now. 

“Who says I want to fuck?” Richie tries really hard to suppress a shudder as he says it, doesn’t quite. Mitch is looking at him with a sort of cool intensity, 

“You, you idiot.” Mitch grabs the front of his shirt, looks him dead in the eye. “Or am I wrong?”

“Yes. No! I want to fuck. Shit.” Mitch fixes him with a blisteringly intense, scrutinising look, ignoring Richie’s stuttering. 

“OK then. Get naked.” Richie’s about to ask “What, here?” because they're just in his hallway and he'll take a fuck against the wall over nothing but Mitch is already walking away towards  _ his  _ fucking bedroom. 

He fumbles the buttons on his shirt as he pads down the hallway, lMitch way ahead of his stumbling. He feels weird and almost cuddly but has the feeling that's not what's about to happen, chucking his shirt on the floor in a way he knows will annoy Mitch as he starts on his flies, pushing jeans, boxers and socks off as he steps into the room, trying not to look for Mitch. 

“Kneel down.” He's fucking doing it before he can stop himself, glaring at Mitch, perched on his desk still fully clothed. 

“Where do you keep those cuffs?” Mitch has propped his chin on one hand, an interested, almost intellectual look on his face. 

Richie’s not answering that, he's not bloody getting tied up by fucking Mitch in his own fucking bedroom even if his cock did twitch at that and- “In the drawer.”

Mitch ruffles his hair patronisingly as he moves from desk to bed, heading for the bedside cabinet and Richie can't help leaning into the touch, feeling Mitch’s fingers against his scalp. It's clearly meant to annoy him but it feels more reassuring and Mitch doesn't let go while he's rummaging in the drawer. 

Richie feels a bit better with Mitch’s fingers drawing gentle circles near his temples, his gaze elsewhere so Richie can just enjoy feeling nice and about to have some probably pretty great sex. Sure, he usually put the cuffs on Mitch before but Richie’s an open minded guy and just so long as he gets to fucking come he's not that bothered about the how. 

Mitch stops rummaging through the drawer, crouches down in front of Richie and grabs both his hands in each of his, gently. He wasn't quite prepare to have that hawkish gaze back on him, yet but Mitch looks gentle, almost loving rather than interrogatory. 

“Hey. I missed you dude.” Mitch leans in to kiss him and Richie can't be bothered to call him out on being sappy when one of them is naked, at least. They've been kissing each other for the best part of a decade, on and off and it's always good, hot, full of purpose and groped promises of what's to come. 

Except Richie can't move his hands to feel Mitch up and make him whine into his mouth. He can't even rub against Mitch, crouching too far away for Richie to do anything more than ineffectually thrust against thin air. 

He can feel Mitch smiling against his mouth, sucking on Richie’s lower lip and slowly, slowly working his tongue into his mouth. It's passionate, much more romantic than their normal frenzied snogging but it's not like they haven't kissed this way before, Richie rolling Mitch into his sheets, pressing him down and seducing him with languid, slow kisses when he was pretending not to be in the mood. 

Fuck, Mitch is seducing him. Which is kind of exactly what he wanted and also not at all, as he feels a cuff go round his right wrist and pulls back to look at Mitch with something close to a scandalised expression. 

“What are you doing?” Mitch looks warm, affectionate. 

“You want to shag, right?” Richie feels the other cuff clip round his left wrist. 

“Yes - but I was thinking I'd fuck you without any of the kinky shit, you pervert.” His voice sounds steadier than he feels, trying not to shuffle on his knees. He doesn't want Mitch to take the cuffs off, he just wants to know where this is going. 

Mitch strokes his face for a second before replying “Is that what you want? Because I seem to remember you like kinky shit.”

Well, he's not going to back down from it now. “Fine then, show me what Frenchy’s taught you.”

Mitch laughs at him, fixes him with a knowing look that says he sees right through Richie’s jealousy and kisses his neck. “I have the feeling you're not going to be a good boy.”

He fucking is, he can be  _ way  _ better than fucking… Lynn or whoever. Definitely Sean. 

Mitch straightens up, cups Richie’s cheek with one hand while he's undoing his flies with the other. “You're still fucking pretty, Stanaway,” Mitch presses his half-hard cock to Richie’s lips and just the sensation of it is enough he nearly whimpers, knowing what's about to happen because he used to do this to Mitch, “Prettier with my cock in your mouth. Always wanted to do this with you.”

Just the fact Mitch has been thinking about him, too is enough to make Richie obediently open his mouth, licking and sucking at Mitch’s cock as he pushes his way in. Mitch moves his hand back into Richie’s hair and he hums around his cock, closing his eyes to not see whatever smug expression Mitch has. 

He's fucking good at giving head and he knows what Mitch likes - gentle pressure on the underside of his cock with his tongue, an almost languid pace up and down his dick with a little swirl of tongue around the head every time he can. 

He can't help grinning a bit because there's no way Oliver fucking Rowland knows how to do it like this, how to hit all Mitch’s favourite sweet spots and make him hard and moaning, thrusting into Richie’s mouth after only a couple of minutes. 

“What are you smiling about?” Mitch clearly isn't undone enough, damn. He's pulling back between thrusts, to give Richie a chance to speak. 

“I bet Sirotkin doesn't do that” Richie closes his eyes again, waiting for Mitch’s dick to be back in his mouth so he can regain control of the situation and make the jumped up little asshole come so hard he can't stand up. 

Instead Mitch lets go of his hair, steps back. “Get on the bed, face down.”

Richie closes his mouth, gives Mitch a challenging look “ _ Seriously?” _

Mitch gives him a light tap on the cheek and Richie can remember doing this to him, for god’s sake. Fine, whatever, Mitch can have his power trip so long as Richie gets a fuck. 

He crawls up onto the bed, feeling surprisingly stiff from kneeling. Lying on his front with an erection isn't the most comfortable thing but pillowed on his forearms and against the silky duvet cover that he doesn't give a shit what anyone thinks about because it’s  _ great  _ after a long haul flight, he feels good. 

Until Mitch straddles his waist, forcing his cock down against the duvet and untucks his hands, uses the cuffs Richie had kind of forgotten about to pin them to the headboard so he's kind of spreadeagled. 

He makes a disgruntled noise and Mitch kisses the back of his neck, down his back until there's pressure on his ankle and another quiet click. 

“Don't think I didn't notice the under bed restraints were out - none of that kinky shit my ass.” Mitch trails an affectionate hand over his arse, “You're a fucking terrible slut, Richie.”

The last word comes with a slap to his arse, much harder than he anticipated although he kind of expected it. While he's trying not to whimper he feels Mitch attach the cuff to  his other ankle, pinning him completely. He can't suppress a groan. 

“For the record, Sergey can't do that. But he is into watching me fuck Ollie the way he wants to. And Pierre-” another slap- “likes it rough,” Richie’s arse is stinging as Mitch slaps him again and he can't suppress a grunt, trying not to yelp, “I like choking him with my dick, never let him come. The Red Bull guys are messed up.”

Richie’s barely listening, eyes stinging as Mitch slaps him again and again and every jolt rubs his cock against the sheets and he's pointlessly straining against the cuffs - he knows they don't budge, he bought them to be good. And he doesn't even care what Stressed and French likes, because fuck it Mitch is spanking  _ him  _ right now, even if he's never, ever admitting how smug that makes him feel. 

He's seen Mitch come off being spanked, albeit Richie had fucked him first to get him close but it'd been kind of incredible to him at the time. Like, how the fuck do you come with your ass pink and stinging, turned over someone's knee? But he can kind of see it now, powerless under Mitch’s hands and rubbing precome on the bedspread. 

He’s nowhere near close enough to give the asshole the satisfaction, though and also it  _ hurts,  _ unable to stop himself crying out every time Mitch hits him. Mitch is straddling his left thigh and he finally manages to get a toe against the end of the bed and leverage enough to rock his leg up into him, grunting with the effort and trying not to let his eyes stream. 

Mitch wobbles for a minute - Richie can't see him, face pressed against a pillow but he feels the mattress move very uncertainly for a second. Then yelps as Mitch spanks him so hard he can't hold back a whimper, cuddling himself into the duvet for comfort as he feels Mitch get off the bed. 

“I knew you'd be like this. You're ridiculous, just go down and it'll be great.” Mitch is rummaging in the drawer again but Richie can't currently think beyond how much his arse stings and how much he doesn't want to cry while he's rubbing his dick on his duvet. 

“I'm sure you used to - ah, here it is,” Mitch isn't really talking to him but Richie finds it reassuring, something other than the disappointed tone he'd just used. When he feels Mitch run a cool hand over his sore arse he sort of settles back down. This is all more normal, he probably never could have come from humping the mattress while Mitch slapped him anyway. 

Mitch presses a kiss against his butt, almost apologetically - the big softie, Richie’s taken harder beatings than that. But then he keeps kissing him, until he's at Richie’s crack and he can't help crying out when Mitch spreads him, suddenly rough, and sticks his tongue on his hole. 

Fuck, fuck. Mitch was the first person he'd actually managed to convince to do this to him, after he'd experimented with doing it to Mitch. It feels as alien and as intimate and as filthy as it always has, all the more because he's tied up too cunningly to even control the spread of his legs, feeling like he can't hide anything. 

His right ankle is straining against the cuff, involuntarily trying to bend his leg, writhing at the feel of Mitch’s tongue licking roughly over and into him. Mitch is half leaning on him, pinning him down and making it feel even more obscene that he can't close his legs, try to wriggle away from how good it feels being worked open with a wet, eager tongue. 

He's just moving on to openly moaning with anticipation that Mitch is gonna fuck him cus the guy has a great cock and there's a first time for everything when he pulls back. Richie hears the unmistakably wet pop of lube being uncapped and liberally pumped onto - argh, his arse. 

Which had been feeling really good and is now cold. He makes a grumpy noise and Mitch kisses his butt again, flesh still tender from the spanking. 

Fingering has always felt good. Well, apart from that time with Di Grassi but that was just fucking ill-advised all around. Mitch fingering him, though, is so good. If you're gonna get your arse fucked, go for a habitual bottom, they know how to do it -  _ oh fuck -  _ yeah he taught Mitch well. 

Mitch picks that moment to add a second finger and suddenly shift, sitting cross-legged next to Richie rather than lying on him,so Richie can actually see him as he is e bends over, almost snuggling up as he hooks his fingers and massages the  _ best _ spot. 

A second later, he's taken advantage of Richie opening his mouth to express his appreciation to stick two fingers in it. Mmrph. 

“You want more?” Mitch is pushing a third finger against his lips and fuck, yes, he does so Mitch can hurry up and fuck him. But talking with your mouth full is kind of hard, so he just makes a weird noise of assent and tries to nod without choking. 

Mitch smiles at him, kisses his shoulder as he fills Richie’s ass and mouth and he feels so  _ satisfied  _ for a second, content to be kind of under and surrounded by Mitch. He's barely sucking on the fingers in his mouth and he feels pliant and relaxed, letting Mitch fuck into him, secure on the bed and with him. 

Mitch slides his little finger into Richie’s mouth and yes, definitely, more. He's a big boy, he knows his limits and Mitch’s fingers feel  _ so  _ good, slowing to minute, soothing circular motions in him. His cock is ridiculously hard, making him twist slightly awkwardly to avoid lying on it but he's not thinking about coming anymore, just enjoying being overwhelmed by sensation, by Mitch filling him. 

It feels filthy and good, knowing by the time Mitch gets his cock in him  _ fucking finally  _ Richie is going to be an about-to-come-all-over-himself rag doll and have the  _ best _ time. Especially if Mitch gets all ego driven and fucks him within an inch of his life until he comes on the sheet. 

Mitch is stroking his prostate, gentle enough not to oversensitise him but still definitely applying very nice pressure, three of his fingers massaging at the spot while he scissors his little finger until Richie doesn't think he can take any more, whines brokenly. Mitch kisses the back of his neck, making him realise how sweaty his hair is. Fuck, he’s a mess already and it feels  _ amazing,  _ shuddering as Mitch takes his fingers out of his mouth and ass because  _ god yes  _ fucking  _ soon.  _

He settles into the bed, shoulders burning from tugging on the restraints in a way that feels  _ so  _ satisfying. In theory he’s still kind of annoyed that Mitch has managed to get him like this but fuck if it isn’t good and Richie so desperately  _ needs  _ good, ok? He’s not had enough people treating him right recently. He trusts Mitch, it’s nice just letting go of it all.

Mitch kisses across his shoulders, moving to kneel behind him, between his legs and Richie can hear more lube getting involved as Mitch leans over him. He’s sensitive and raw where Mitch is putting his weight against his arse but it feels soothing, pressure against the burning skin. 

Mitch nuzzles the sweaty nape of his neck, supporting himself with one hand by Richie’s head while the other strokes down his side, under him and across his stomach muscles to slide wetly over his dick. Richie can’t keep his eyes open, pressing his face into the duvet and going boneless, moaning at Mitch’s slick fingers moving on hot, swollen skin. 

He’s missed Mitch. They’ve known each other what feels like, functionally, forever and Richie doesn’t do emotional conversations or bro hugs or whatever but Mitch has always been  _ company  _ and he gets so fucking lonely. He’s not into making new friends, same as he isn’t into deep chats, he just wants the comfort of a relationship he can put on like a favourite sweater and just  _ be  _ without having to fucking give or take anything. 

Mitch is kissing the shell of his ear, nuzzling up to him while he’s half-lying on top of Richie. It’s weirdly non-sexual, hand on his dick aside and it feels so comfortable, pushed down and surrounded. Mitch nuzzles him again almost cuddling up against him and Richie doesn’t normally like this sort of bullshit but it’s kind of different when he’s tied up.

Mitch shifts, rebalancing and moving his weight off Richie, taking his hand off his dick and Richie would complain but that means it’s  _ motherfucking dick time  _ and he is  _ so ready.  _  He can hear Mitch doing something with lube and he’s sunk so deep into the duvet, so  _ content  _ with how good this is going to feel that he’s happy to pay no attention whatsoever beyond sensation, letting it happen to him.

He feels Mitch’s teeth against his ear, nipping, his hand by Richie’s mouth again and he realises he’s checking he’s awake and responding, which he hadn’t been doing much of. Richie makes a moderately grumpy, fond noise and licks Mitch’s fingers, hears him chuckle as he bumps a closed fist against Richie’s mouth. 

Which. If that was the game they were playing earlier then - he makes a noise somewhere between nervous and eager and then nearly growls at himself for being so fucking easy to play, closes his mouth again.

“Really?” Mitch is half-laughing at him and he’s all ...less fun again, now, “Not today, dude. But maybe.”

Mitch strokes his hand back down Richie’s body, kissing the back of his neck again and it’s vaguely pacifying. “You’re being pretty good. I’m impressed.”

Of all the fucking  _ rude ass things  _ that fucking takes the piss, he tries vainly for a bit of purchase against the restraints, tries to get at Mitch, kneeling between his legs again - “Stop fucking around and fuck me.”

Mitch makes a humming noise that sounds enough like assent that he stops struggling, flops into the mattress again - if Mitch wants him to take a more active role in fucking he can bloody untie him. A second later, he feels the pressure of Mitch’s body against him, a hand on his waist and finally, fucking  _ finally  _ he’s being filled.

It’s so fucking good, such a glorious stretch, at-fucking-last, that for a second he doesn’t work out it isn’t Mitch’s dick. By the time the plug’s bottomed out, he’s halfway between furious at not getting fucked and slack-jawed because it’s one he bought  _ ages  _ ago - once tried to use it on Mitch, a few years ago and it was way too much - and he’s so full and it’s so slick and good. He can live with Mitch wanking him off with this in, it’s fine, they can fuck later.

Except Mitch’s weight is leaving the bed, which is not goo- “Hey,” Mitch has crouched down to be looking at him level, where he’s turned his face to the side. “I don’t think you’re ready to be fucked yet. Be good, yeah?”

And with that the little asshole is  _ fucking gone.  _ Richie hears the door closed and can sense an emptiness to the room that means Mitch isn’t just fucking with him. Fuck. What the  _ hell? _

Richie used to tease Mitch sometimes, make him wait for it. Even back in the day when Mitch could come at least twice whenever they fooled around, it was more fun to force him to one really intense one. But it wasn’t like he was fucking bringing him off in a hurry already and  _ fuck.  _

He can hear himself whining against the duvet, shifting restlessly so as not to put too much weight on his dick. He’s tired and he’s horny and he really wants ...ok maybe not to come or at least, not just to come but for Mitch to do something phenomenol to him. He wants whatever this fucking mindblowing sex Lynn had been nattering about is.

He’s bored of hearing everyone but him’s coming so hard their brain might fall out. Is that so unreasonable? He just wants something to fucking write home about, wank fuel for ages. Which this - ok, it’s kind of hot being spread on the bed like this, warm in the summer sunbeam, his ass full and his dick still kind of slick against the sheets from the lube Mitch had had on his hand.

He clenches around the plug and shudders - if Mitch is, like, secretly filming him or whatever he’s an absolute fucker and Richie doesn’t really care because that felt amazing. He doesn’t think he can come, with just the plug and the friction against the duvet but he can get himself so damn close he’ll be a goner as soon as Mitch touches him. 

Assuming he’s coming back. Which Richie is sure he is. And in the meantime he’s got all this drowsy warmth and soft duvet and the steady, full feeling and his face feels nice against the sheets, totally collapsing into them so as not to strain against the restraints. 

He can feel himself drifting a little, shifting every now and then for a different sensation. It feels good enough that, as annoyed as he is, he’s sort of happy to settle into it and amuse himself for a bit. Mitch can go and wank off in the lounge if that’s what he really wants to do - and Richie had felt his cock against his leg, before he’d left, it’s not just him that wants to fuck. 

Richie rubs his face on the silky cover, smoothing out a patch to pillow himself against and nestling deeper. He’s warm and full and sooner or later, Mitch is going to be too tempted to get his dick in him. Probably. He’s sure.

\--------

He wakes up to fingers threading through his hair, makes a confused noise. He’s a little sweaty, still in a sunbeam and momentarily weirded out that he can’t move, tugging his arm almost painfully. 

He opens an eye to see Mitch sitting next to him on the bed, looking very loving - it’s an expression Richie recognises from when they’d first fooled around, a little wonder and awe in it. Neither of them speaks, Richie finds himself really not wanting to - hoping Mitch doesn’t. 

Mitch looks so happy with him and Richie desperately wants to please him. The same way he used to, when he’d get Mitch off better than anyone else ever could, when they had the best sex Richie’s ever fucking had and both got off on how good they were at it. 

This is different, they’re different - but it’s still  _ them.  _ Mitch’s fingers move from his hair to his lips and Richie closes his eyes to suck on them. There’s no tongue or fancy tricks, just reassurance, Mitch’s thumb stroking over his cheek. 

“You’re so good. I fucking missed you.” Mitch sounds hoarse, like he hasn’t spoken for awhile and Richie wonders how long he was asleep, for a minute - can’t be that long, if the sun’s still this bright. He’s still hard - or maybe hard again, whatever but he doesn’t feel any urgency about it. They’re going to get off, whatever, Mitch is going to take care of him. 

Mitch leans down, kisses his hair, his face, takes his fingers out of Richie’s mouth to awkwardly kiss his lips, heads twisting against the duvet. “Gonna fuck you, ok?”

Richie nods, makes a pleased noise, settles back in. He’s a bit surprised when Mitch reaches over and unclips the cuffs from the headboard, realises he can already move his legs but doesn’t really want to. It sort of makes sense - he’s not in an especially great position for fucking but he’s much too relaxed and bonelessly tired to move around himself, assuming Mitch will tug him anywhere he wants him, put that muscle to good use. 

Mitch is by the side of the bed, quickly stripping - Richie resists the urge to do more than fondly smile at him having to hop a couple of times to get his foot out of those stupid, sprayed-on jeans. When he crawls onto the bed he’s quick to curl around Richie, kissing his neck as he tugs gently on the plug, reminds him he has to pull it out.

The stretch feels bigger, which is ridiculous given it’s been  _ fucking inside him  _ for fuck knows how long. He makes a strained noise, pleased when Mitch nuzzles and kisses him through it, until he’s just empty and doesn’t feel  _ weird  _ but ready - especially when Mitch makes a noise that’s pure want, some sort of half-groan.

Richie can feel Mitch’s dick against his ass, whines at how close he is to fucking into him when Mitch puts his arms around him and rolls them so they’re pornographically spooning. Mitch is breathing against his neck, almost panting - not exactly like he’s straining but definitely excited, something Richie shares as he finally pushes in and he’s not even sure which of them, maybe both, makes the long whining noise that’s filling his ears.

“Fuck, oh god.” Mitch nuzzles into the hair at the base of his neck, “Fuck, Richie. You’re so good.”

Richie hums a response, arches a little against Mitch to move them, rock them further together. He feels lit up, glowing, the kind of emotions he’d be embarrassed about with anyone else. But he knows he’s done this to Mitch - got him into this kind of dreamy, total, pleasure state and made him feel special - felt it in response, that he could do that to someone. 

Mitch half-growls against the back of his neck, almost vibrating with half-holding himself back before fucking into Richie with earnest. It’s a  _ good  _ angle, a little awkward for force but even the shallowest thrust is hitting good places and Mitch is vocalising how great it feels enough for the pair of them.

There’s a firm hand on his hip, holding him in place so Mitch can fuck into him. His other arm is around Richie’s chest, giving him something to half-hold-onto and as much as Mitch sounds like he’s falling apart, gasping and moaning against Richie’s neck, he’s not letting go. 

He says something stuttering, then seems to get control, stops thrusting for a second and moves his hand to Richie’s dick. “Do you want to come?”

Richie whines happily because  _ fuck yes,  _ he really fucking does - the second Mitch had got into him that urgency had come back, his balls feeling tight with the need to just fucking let go. 

“Say it. Ask me.” Mitch’s voice is thick with sex, deep and tender and he kisses Richie’s neck again, at the end - affectionate, not commanding and Richie wouldn’t deny him anything anyway.

“Can I come?” His voice comes out close to a whisper, hopes Mitch doesn’t want much more, “Please?”

Mitch moans, like that’s one of the hottest things to ever happen to him, thrusts into Richie in a way that seems semi-involuntary and nuzzles into him, “Yes, baby. You’ve been such a good boy.”

It’s Richie’s turn to moan because - look, fuck off, everyone likes being told they’re good and Mitch’s hand is moving and he’s fucking him again and it’s so many things. He  _ has  _ been a good boy and Mitch has been good to him and he kind of hopes they’re going to nap and cuddle after but right now all he wants is for the too-much sensation in his balls to shoot across the rest of his crotch as he whines and keens and comes  _ all fucking over  _ the duvet, feeling Mitch come inside him. 

They pant for a second, one or the other of them shuddering with an aftershock every few seconds. Mitch is trembling, stroking down Richie’s side and pressing his nose into his hair, muffling a few very whiny noises that Richie recognises as ones he only makes after an orgasm for the fucking ages.

It slowly dissipates, the thing that was going on. Mitch makes a slightly grumbly noise, unclips the loose cuffs from Richie’s wrists, massages the skin underneath. They’re both sweaty and sticky and covered in lube and spunk - from experience, neither of them cares much in the afterglow but it’s a little… squelchy, in places.

Richie decides he doesn’t care, rolling his shoulders to snuggle further back into Mitch, half-listening to Mitch mumbling nice things at him. Damn right, they’re still a thing. 


End file.
